


Little Ox

by MarsDragon



Category: Giant Robo
Genre: Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24367138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsDragon/pseuds/MarsDragon
Summary: "They call you ox, because you're big and strong and can nearly pull a plow by yourself even though you're just eight years old."Tetsugyu and his parents.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Little Ox

They call you ox, because you're big and strong and can nearly pull a plow by yourself even though you're just eight years old. 

Or sometimes because you're slow, but that doesn't bother you too much. You're more useful to your mother as big and strong than small and smart, so it doesn't matter if the other kids make fun of you. They're not supporting their mothers all by themselves.

You don't know what happened to your father. When you were little - littler - you worked out that fathers disappear for all sorts of reasons: bandits, fortune-seeking, accidents, the call of the road...your father probably got caught by one of those. Fathers aren't like mothers. Mothers usually disappear because of overwork or new little siblings, and you make sure neither of those are going to happen to your mother. You do all the heavy work around the farm and remind her every day that you don't need a little brother or sister, even if they seem like fun. A brother isn't worth it.

So you get up and work every day, tending the field and fetching water and chopping firewood, and your mother takes in work from all around the village and out to the big town by the river, and you get by. There's enough to keep you both fed, even with your big ox of an appetite, as your mother calls it with a smile, and it's hard but you've never known an easy life. You're happy just to be with your mother.

The days pass and you get bigger and bigger. Pretty soon you can pull the plow all by yourself, with your mother steering behind. The other kids don't make fun of you anymore, not after you knocked half of them down and scared the rest off. You think about expanding the field, because if there's more land there's more crops, and then you'd have some to sell at the town market, and then maybe you and your mother could have better food and nicer clothes and get tiles for the roof so it doesn't leak when it rains. When you tell your mother about your plans she pats you on the head and says: "Soon, soon, my little ox. Don't rush. We have all we need right here." And you do, so you don't worry about it.

Then the man comes. 

You see him hanging around the edges of the village, skulking through the tall summer grass and creeping along the path to town. The men of the village snort and ignore him, so he's probably not a bandit, but he's closest to your house and you want to teach him a lesson. You're almost twelve, after all, and the man of the house, and it's your job to scare off intruders. You give your hatchet a good sharpening and go out, but the man is nowhere to be found. You must've scared him off already. Whistling happily, you head back in and spend the rest of the day pulling weeds.

That night you're on the edge of sleep when you hear it. Your mother's voice cuts through the dark. "-I _can't!_ "

A low indistinct mumbling is the only reply. You roll over, quiet as a snake, and try to see what's happening. It's pitch-black in the little hut, but a bit of moonlight slips through the cracks and you can just barely make out the shape of your mother - and a large, dark shadow next to her.

Your mother is whispering again and you can't make out the words. She sounds nervous and impatient, but not terrified. That's the only reason you stay listening instead of rushing out to her rescue. Something's going on. 

A few words float out of the darkness. "...better...real money..." from the shadow, and the deep voice sounds like a man. "Where...money...responsibilities...the farm!" from your mother. 

The figures fall into an tense silence as you realise what's happening. The man wants to buy the farm. He wants to force you and your mother out and take over, but your mother won't agree. Your fist clenches in rage. You'll show him! You'll toss him out on his ear, right now!

Before you can get up, he stands and a ray of moonlight strikes his face. And you gasp, because it's the same man who's been hanging around the village, the same man you thought you scared away already. His face is drawn and solemn, and he pats your mother on the shoulder before he leaves. Your mother crouches there, a small, huddled shape in the shadows, before slowly coming over and laying down next to you.

You can barely hear her whisper in the darkness. "What should I do...?"

"Ma?" you say, no longer able to resist the fear and anger and uncertainty. There has to be- there has to be some way to fix this, to make this right.

"Oh - don't mind me, little ox. It's nothing. Go back to sleep, there's lots of work to do tomorrow."

She turns her face away and the conversation is over, but you can't sleep. You stay awake, gnawing on your worry, until dawn.

You spend the next day running errands for people to pick up on gossip, and you don't like what you hear. The man is a criminal, you hear. The man is running from the law, you hear. The man used to be a good villager, but he left and the outside world corrupted him, you hear. The whispers stop when the man wanders by, in the clothes you now notice are so much cleaner and nicer than anyone else's, but they pick up again as soon as his back is turned.

Your mother is distant and distracted all day. She refuses to speak of last night. She refuses to speak of anything besides the daily necessities, and she burns the rice twice out of carelessness. 

All the while, you're thinking about that man. The criminal. The man who wants to steal your home right out from under you and put you and your mother on the street. The man who doesn't need the money and is just doing it from pigheaded spite. The man that hangs around the tall grass where no one else is.

And you think of the nice sharp hatchet hanging on the wall. 

You don't really have a plan. If he doesn't give up when facing a big strong boy like you, you'll wave the hatchet in his face and make him reconsider. You're as big as a man already. You can probably scare him off without any trouble, because criminals are all cowards, deep down. 

So when the sun hangs low over the horizon and your mother is cooking rice for dinner, you quietly take the hatchet down from the wall. You tell her you're going to chop some firewood, and you'll be back soon. She doesn't even look up when you go.

Your mouth is dry as you leave, but you square your shoulders and keep going. A man faces his fears. A man doesn't turn back from what needs to be done.

The stranger - the criminal - is standing on a small rise, watching the sunset. The entire field is gold, and a light wind blows blows across the brilliant sky. It's beautiful. It's so beautiful you want to run away, but your feet keep walking without your head. 

Pretty soon you're right behind him, and the man turns to face you. There's no recognition on his face. You're just another dumb village kid to him. Your sweaty fingers grip tightly around your hatchet as you call out: "Are you the man who spoke to Li Hua last night?" 

"I am." His face doesn't change.

"Well, go away! Leave! Crawl back to where you came from or you'll be sorry!"

He stares at you for a long moment, then throws his head back and starts laughing. 

"The hell are you laughing at? I told you to get out!"

"What, you got a crush on her or something? She's married, you know." He's still chuckling when he looks at you again. "I don't have time to play with children. Run on home, there's a good boy." 

Your frayed temper snaps, and it's enough to wipe out any remaining fear in a blood-red tide of fury. You rush at him, hatchet raised, screaming.

He steps out of the way and gives you a push as you go by, making you stumble. You barely catch yourself, turn around, and rush at him again.

This time he punches you in the gut and you double over in pain. He smacks you in the face too, making your ears ring, and finally he shoves you hard enough to put you on your ass. Then he just stands there watching you cough and twitch on the ground. "Really, kid," he says, "go home. You've got no reason to be here, so stop wasting my time."

"Shut up," you manage to grit out as you get back on your feet. And then you rush at him again.

The fight quickly falls into a pattern. You attack, you get hit. The man is clearly just playing with you, never quite dealing that last crippling blow, even as you rack up the cuts and bruises. Eventually he pulls a knife, waves it in your face as if that'll scare you, and finally slashes your cheek open. He steps back then, as if he expects the fight to be over just because you're bleeding. 

"Come _on_ , kid," he says, "give it up. Go home. Your family's probably worried about you."

But you still have your hatchet, and you raise it up to your eyes. The horizon tilts dangerously under its red haze; you blink furiously to keep it where it is. "No. I won't give up, and I won't back down." You're panting, all the blows are adding up, but you _won't let that stop you_. "I swear, I won't let you have our farm. I won't let you bother my ma anymore. I swear on my name, Li Kui, that I'm going to send you right back where you came from!" 

The man's face turns white, and you charge.

He tries to dodge your first blow, a wild downswing with the hatchet, but for the first time he doesn't make it and something warm and wet spills over your hands. "Wait-" he says, grabbing your shoulder, "wait a minute-" but you won't wait. You won't be stopped. You won't give up. You will protect your mother! 

You grab him with your other arm and haul him up and over your shoulder like a bag of rice. You stand like that for a moment, not quite able to get your balance, before swinging yourself forward and throwing him off the hill with a final thud. He's down but you're not done yet. You can't let him go back to the village. You can't let him threaten your mother. You'll nail that hand right to the ground.

You throw your hatchet, just like you've practiced, and it flies out in a long, graceful arc. The man has pushed himself up and is reaching out to you, his face desperate for something you can't name. He opens his mouth, starts to speak, but it's cut off when the hatchet flies just a little too far and carves into his back. His eyes open wide, so wide you can see the white all the way around his pupils, and he gives one last pathetic moan before his face drops down into the dirt.

There's blood on his back. There's blood on your hands. There's blood everywhere. 

The man isn't moving.

Your breath is short. 

This can't be real. You just wanted him to go away. You didn't mean- you didn't mean to kill him. Not really. Not like that. You've killed animals, deer and pigs and chickens, but not...not a man. Not a person. 

How can a child kill a man?

His hand twitches, and bloody froth spills from his mouth along with his voice. "Li Kui...Li Kui, my son..."

No.

The scene sways in front of you. The grass is still golden, the sky still red. And your father is dying.

No.

"My son...I wanted..." He coughs, and more blood spews from his mouth. It's so far away it feels like a dream, but you can smell the blood. There's nothing else to smell. It's everywhere. "I wanted to take both of you away...money - a better...a better life...ah!" He shudders, and the hatchet shakes in his back.

Your father? Your father wanted to be with you? But you don't have a father. You've never had a father. He disappeared long ago.

The father you don't have writhes in agony as he dies. "I went to BF...to protect you," he mumbles, "Protect you and Li Hua... My son, please, look after..."

He can't call you son. You don't have a father.

You don't have a father and you killed him. 

The sunset is beautiful. The grass is beautiful. Everything is beautiful and it doesn't make sense. How can the grass still be swaying gently in the breeze? How can the clouds still be floating in the sky? Don't they know what you've done?

One last rattling breath escapes your father's lungs and his body relaxes in death. His face is still twisted in pain, face-down in the dirt and covered with filth. You did that. 

It's all your fault. 

Slowly, numbly, you walk home.

* * *

You sit down for dinner. You eat your rice. You don't talk. Your mother doesn't notice, she's staring off into the distance like she's- she's-

Like she's waiting for someone. Someone that promised to come home.

You mumble an excuse you don't hear and leave. You don't know where you're going. You don't know what you'll do. It's the first time you can remember when you haven't even finished one bowl of rice, but if you eat any more you'll be sick. You might be sick anyway.

You go out back and sit there in the dark, listening to the night sounds. The cut on your cheek still hurts. It might scar if you don't do something about it.

You keep sitting there.

Time passes.

Your mother screams.

You're running inside before you can think. There's a small group of villagers - a couple of the local men standing around, looking awkward, one of your mother's friends with an arm wrapped around her shoulder, the village headman - and your mother, sobbing over your father's corpse. 

The headman's face is blank as a grave. "We found this in his back, Li Hua," he says, holding out-

Holding out-

You stand there, unable to make a sound. The headman just keeps talking. There's no emotion in his voice. "It's a village hatchet, but no one's missing one. Do you know who might have had a grudge against your husband?"

Your mother is sobbing so hard she can't reply, but the shake of her head is unmistakable. 

There's a blank place on the wall where your hatchet usually hangs. It calls to you like a fire. How can no one else see it? Are they toying with you?

"I see. That's too bad. I'll hold on to this - we'll see who comes looking for an hatchet."

The world is spinning, and you feel cold and alone. You could run. You're big and strong, you can live by yourself. The villagers will take care of your mother. No one has to know. 

"We'll do our best to find the culprit. I'm very sorry. It's a terrible thing, to think someone in our village could kill a man."

You could run. You could run so far no one would ever find you again.

But your mother didn't raise a coward or a liar. 

The packed dirt floor tilts under you as you step forward. All you can see is the hatchet hanging above your parents, still smeared with blood.

* * *

The crops still need tending, so you do that. The wood still needs chopping, so you do that. The grass still needs cutting, the rice needs cooking, the clothes need patching, the water needs boiling, and so you do it all. 

It turns out there's one more thing that can make a mother disappear. Overwork, new siblings...and grief. 

She doesn't call you "little ox" anymore. She doesn't call you much of anything. She doesn't call anyone much of anything. She sits in the doorway and watches the distance like she's waiting for someone. 

The other villagers shake their heads and murmur. They stop when you pass by, but start up again as soon as they think you out of earshot. They were a perfect couple, you hear. He always promised to return and take her away, you hear. She was constant and faithful the entire time, you hear. He had connections in the big, big city. Connections that got him a large apartment, sharp new clothes, plenty of food, more money than he could spend. 

It's a tragedy, you hear.

It makes you want to scream. Why is it your fault? He came sneaking and hiding, not letting anyone know who he was. How were you supposed to know? If he'd just walked up and introduced himself- if he'd just told you he was your father- none of this would have happened! 

But then you see your mother, still waiting, and you just bow your head and walk away.

You bury her three months later, next to her husband. There are whispers at the funeral, and all the way home.

But the crops still need tending, so you do that.

* * *

A week later, two men arrive at your door. One of them is middle-aged and looks like a warrior, standing straight and alert at the door. The other looks like he's only a couple years older than you, with the kind of scraggly half-beard boys get when they're trying to be men.

The man asks: "Are you the one who killed the BF Organization agent?"

You stare at him blankly. The name "BF" sounds familiar, but remembering exactly where you've heard it would take too much effort. You keep cooking the rice. It burns so easily, and after once you eat you need to patch the roof again, and chop more wood, and pull all the weeds that have sprouted in your field.

He sighs. "A man was killed here about three months ago. Was that you?"

Your mother didn't raise a coward or a liar. You nod, and the man looks at you with...approval? 

He tells you your father was a criminal. That he earned all that money the villagers talk about through shady deals and exploitation. That he was part of an even bigger organization, one the man doesn't know the scope of, but might be behind crimes across all of China, or maybe even the world. That the man and his partner are policemen working to fight corruption all around the globe.

That since you killed a criminal, they want you to join them and fight for justice. 

Since you killed your father.

The rice burns. You don't notice.

If you and your mother had gone with your father, would you all have become criminals? Was it better for you to have stopped that? Even if...even if it meant blood on the grass and on your axe and on your hands? Isn't murder a crime too? How can you fight for justice when your father lies dead at your feet? 

The man watches you, expectant. You get the feeling there's only one answer he'll accept. 

His partner steps forward with an easy smile and sits down next to you. "Hey, stop looking so scared," he says, like you're already good friends. "The IPO's a great place! You get paid, you get to protect the peace, and just between you and me-" he leans in close and whispers in your ear "-the female agents are out of this world!" 

You stare at him and feel a massive, embarrassing flush crawl across your face. He grins. "My name's Taisou. This fellow here just picked me up a month or so ago, and we were moving south for my formal training when we heard about all this business. Hey, don't look at me like that! A month's plenty of time to get an impression!" He laughs. It's the first laugh in the house for over three months. "We'd love to have you aboard! What's your name, big guy?"

You stare at him some more. The pace of the conversation is making you dizzy, not to mention the sickening gap in your heart where your parents live now, ripped open by the visit. How can you leave? Your family has lived here for generations. Your parents are buried here. And...you're a murderer. You can't fight for justice. You killed your father.

Taisou's eyes soften. He puts a hand on your shoulder like your mother used to and speaks gently. "It's all right, everyone's got a past in the IPO. We don't ask questions - right, sir?" The solemn man by the door nods. "As long as you're willing to fight with us, that's all we need. So how about it?"

"I- I, uh..." Your gaze drops to your trembling hands. It sounds nice. Your head fills with visions of you wandering around the country, righting wrongs and overthrowing evil, but your father's dying voice threads through every one. How can you just...leave?

But how can you stay? How can you stay here, in this village filled with ghosts and whispers?

There's no other way forward. You can see that clearly now. Either you stay here and drown in guilt forever, or you try to make something of your life. Justice isn't a bad thing to dedicate yourself to. And even if the man is kind of scary...Taisou seems nice. 

The pictures will always be in the back of your mind: your father with his hand stretched out and your hatchet in his back, your mother watching the horizon for someone who will never come home. You'll carry them with you until you die. 

Everyone's got a past in the IPO.

Slowly, you raise your head to meet Taisou's eyes. "I'm...they call me Ox. Iron Ox."

**Author's Note:**

> Someone read The Day the Earth Changed and said it would be huge feels if I got to Tetsugyu or Murasame. I thought nothing of it at the time, but then I woke up the next morning with "They call you ox" in my head and it all went on from there. 
> 
> Obviously Tetsugyu translates his name for the official paperwork. Or something.


End file.
